


Bow Nise

by MarvelousMusings



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awkward Steve Rogers, Dad Steve Rogers, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Boyfriends, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Parenthood, Step-parents, steve has no clue about kids tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21734059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarvelousMusings/pseuds/MarvelousMusings
Summary: Steve has never spent any notable amount of time alone with his fiance's daughter, until now.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 241
Collections: Marvel Trumps Hate 2019





	Bow Nise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magicasen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicasen/gifts).



> Thank you for bidding on my auctioned piece during Marvel Trumps Hate 2019! I hope you enjoy this!
> 
> Feel free to leave comments and kudos. They feed the writer brain. 🖤

Steve enjoyed a leisurely morning. Up before the sun most days, he would take his time reading the morning paper, preparing breakfast, drinking his coffee, and watching the morning traffic report. It was a set ritual, before the madness of the day ensued. And scarcely anything could come between him and his _ritual._

Save for his less-than-organized billionaire fiance.

“Up and at ‘em, old timer,” Tony had called, shaking Steve awake as he passed by. Through bleary eyes Steve could just make out the frenzy with which Tony was sprinting around the room, “We need to get a move on. Chop, chop, Sleeping Beauty.”

“What the hell...Tony, what _time_ is it?” Steve grumbled, flopping over to check the bedside clock - 5:30, “ _Whasgoinon_?” he slurred as he sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“I have to go. I will be back as soon as I can,” Tony grumbled, grabbing his keys from atop the dresser and adjusting the shirt which he’d managed to button cock-eyed, “And on a related note, it is _our_ weekend with Morgan and Pepper is expecting me there within the hour to pick her up, so I’m going to need you to do that, okay? Please and thank you,” he leaned in absently to peck Steve’s lips before dashing from the room.

“Where the hell are you going to be?” Steve asked as he followed Tony down the hallway.

“I’m going into the city for a few hours - got some business to take care of,” he grumbled absently, sliding into a blazer before reaching for his briefcase.

Steve blocked his way to the door, his arms crossed over his chest, “Tony, I don’t know what to do with Morgan for - how long, exactly?”

“No more than a few hours,” Tony insisted with an err of nonchalance that Steve certainly did not reciprocate, “It won’t be that bad. I put out her art set on the counter. She knows where her snacks are in the pantry. If you run out of things to do, you can pull up that weird little...pig monster that she likes on the TV, and I’ll be back before lunch.”

Tony swiveled his way around him then, making his way out the door and across the driveway with Steve hot on his heels, “I don’t know about this, Tony,” Steve pressed, “I don’t know anything about kids. I’ve never been alone with her before. What if she hits her head? What if I _drop_ her-”

“Steve, sweetheart,” Tony murmured, peering at him over top of his shades, “she’s not an invalid. She can walk on her own two feet _._ ”

“Okay,” Steve nodded, feeling a flush raise in his cheeks, “You’re absolutely right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Tony smirked, slipping into the front seat and shutting the car door, rolling down the window just far enough so that Steve could lean in for a goodbye kiss, “You know, you _really_ don’t have to worry. The kid thinks you’re _cool_. She’d probably be content to just trail behind you while you go about your day.”

Steve couldn’t help the little smile that spread across his lips, “Yeah, don’t let it go to your head. She’s six and kind of a dork.” Steve couldn’t help but let out a laugh as Tony pulled him down by his collar for one final kiss, before giving him a shove, “You’ll be fine. Now get out of here. Pepper likes to leave for work by 7:00. You’re gonna be cutting it close. _Love you!_ ”

“Yeah, yeah. _Love you, too,_ ” he grumbled, though he couldn’t be for sure Tony had caught. He was tearing down the driveway before Steve had time to find his keys.

*

The drive hadn’t been a terribly long or miserable one. The switch-off required minimal effort on Steve’s part. Pepper had loaded the car seat, suitcase, and backpack into Steve’s Audi, had instructed Morgan to _be good,_ and had spared him a grateful glance before making the dash to her own car. The ride home had been quiet. Too quiet, Steve had wagered, but _what was one supposed to chat with a six-year-old about for an hour and a half, anyway?_

Succumbing to the fact that no topic of conversation was immediately jumping to mind - and that Morgan seemed entirely content, strapped into the back seat with her tablet in hand - he turned up the radio, letting the dulcet tones of the National Public Radio carry him all the way back to the house, “Alright,” he murmured, coming around the back of the car to unbuckle her and collect her backpack from the floor of the car, “you run on in. I’ll bring your things up to your room.”

She did as he said without complaint or question and as he made his way inside under the weight of her luggage, Steve found her to be already making herself at home in the living room, flipping through the channels until she found _Peppa Pig_. Steve went about unloading the contents of the little girl’s suitcase into her closet and drawers before returning downstairs, heading into the kitchen with a yawn to turn on the coffee pot.

Picking up the abandoned paper from that morning, he into one of the chairs set around the table and began to thumb through.

“Whatcha doin’?” a soft voice came from his side then, very nearly causing Steve to jump.

He set the paper off the side then, leaning over the counter to check the status on the pot, “I was just making some coffee,” he grumbled, hobbling over to pour himself a cup, “Didn’t get around to it this morning. You don’t...want coffee, right?”

“Ew, no! I don’t drink _coffee,_ ” she wrinkled her nose with a laugh, scooting her way onto one of the barstools at the counter, “But I _do_ drink chocolate milk,” she said, leaning forward in an almost conspiratorial way.

Steve nodded, turning to the fridge and pulling out the carton, “Now, _that_ I can do.”

After handing over a tall glass of chocolate milk, _as requested,_ he leaned forward over the counter, sipping on his coffee as she did, “So, what’s the plan, kiddo? What are we doing today? Anything you want.”

Morgan had to think for only a moment before her eyes lit up, “I brought my dolls in my backpack.”

“Lead the way,” he instructed, trailing behind her with his coffee mug still in hand.

The next couple of hours found Steve following the little girl’s lead through a rousing game of _Barbie rescues Ken from the tallest tower,_ as she aptly called it. He pitched his voice to bring her characters to life. At one point he found himself running around the room with Morgan held high above his head so that she could pluck one of the dolls from atop the armoire, _saving the day._

After the dolls had run their course, Morgan had finally relented and allowed Steve to go back downstairs to finish skimming through the newspaper. She’d surprised him when she’d tucked in alongside him with a book of her own, _Magic Tree House: The Knight at Dawn._ And to Steve’s astonishment, she flipped page after page, stopping only occasionally to lay the book across his newspaper in order to ask for different pronunciations and definitions - “ _Dungeon. You know...kinda like a jail._ ”

Uneasy though he had started out the day, Steve had to admit that he was growing to enjoy Morgan’s sense of humor and energy. At the very least, he was relieved that she was not prone to bouts of clumsiness and injury like her father.

The two barely noticed as the front door creaked open and an exhausted Tony hobbled inside. Steve had went ahead and started pulling together a few things for lunch and Morgan was sat quietly in one of the kitchen chairs, working over an easel that Steve had managed to pull from the attic.

“ _Maguna,_ ” Tony whispered with a smile, kneeling down on one knee and flinging his arms wide as the little girl dove at him, “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, Daddy,” she murmured into his neck as he hoisted her high onto his hip, “Steve helped me put up a _tree house_ in my room, Daddy - like the one on my book.”

“Oh, _did he,_ ” he remarked, throwing a humored glance Steve’s way before turning his attention back to her, “so _that’s_ why there are no cushions on the couch.”

“ _Yep,_ ” she cheered proudly.

“Well, I guess we’d better go take a look at this _inside tree house,_ ” he said, setting her back down on the ground and watching warmly as she barreled out of the room before leaning in to grab a quick kiss from Steve, “ _Thank you,_ ” he whispered, “She looks like she’s been having fun.”

Steve dropped his head with a defeated smile, “And maybe a little too much sugar. She guzzled half a gallon of chocolate milk and two packs of fruit snacks while I had my back turned.”

“Oh boy, she’s gonna be wired for the rest of the night,” Tony chuckled, shaking his head, “I got some groceries on the way back. You mind putting those away while I chase after the sugar gremlin?”

As he unloaded the groceries for that night’s dinner, Steve found that his eyes wandered to the little easel in the corner repeatedly. There was something charming about the little group of paint blobs on the canvas that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Upon a closer inspection he _could_ make out three misshapen little people and a triangle-roofed house. The little people were sweet-looking with wide smiles that spread the width of their entire faces, and with hands linked between them. And just below there were three little titles that he could just make out. _Dad. Morgan. Bow Nise._ That certainly wasn’t the name of any person he was familiar with - maybe a friend from school?

*

“Morgan," Steve began as he moved around the kitchen, cleaning up from a leisurely lunch. Morgan had returned to her easel in the corner, adding more layers of paint to her piece, "Who have you got in your painting there?" he asked, coming to rest just over her shoulder.

"That's me," she said, pointing to the shortest, "and Daddy, " she continued, pointing to the second-tallest, "And that one is you!" Morgan finished, pointing to the much taller third person - the one titled _Bow nose- whose hand jutted out to meet her own likeness's._

Steve shuffled on the spot, heat flooding hits cheeks, "That's me?"

"Uh huh."

She was clearly not as moved by it as he was. Steve bent down then, pointing to the title underneath of himself, "You know...that's not how you spell _Steve_ , right? I could help you, if you like-"

"It's not suppose to say _Steve_ ," she countered with a roll of her eyes that would've given her own father a run for his money, "It _says bonus."_

"...Bonus?"

Morgan nodded, turning back to her painting, her focus returned to the task at hand, "Daddy says I'm _extra_ lucky because I've got him and Mommy _and_ a bonus dad - that's you."

For one moment, Steve Rogers was stunned silent. He didn't know whether to reach out and hug Morgan or to turn around and leave the room for fear of the tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes. Settling for placing a light hand on her shoulder, he knelt down so as to be on her level, "I think it's really nice," he sniffed, "When you're done I think we should find someplace to hang it, hm?"

"I want it in my room," she said definitively, "I don't have any family pictures in my room."

_Family._

He couldn't help the single tear then, but wiped it away hastily as she swiveled in her chair to face him, her picture in her hands, " _Done!"_

"That is just perfect," Steve mused, bending down to hoist her onto his hip, "Let's go find a nice spot for it."


End file.
